


frequency 101.1

by LocketShoru



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: AAverse, Behemoth Violate - Freeform, Deadly Beetle Stand, Garuda Aiacos - Freeform, Gen, Golem Rock, Libra Dohko - Freeform, Mandrake Fyodor - Freeform, Slice of Life, mentions of characters include, this is also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocketShoru/pseuds/LocketShoru
Summary: A slice of life set during the earlier days of the 17th century Holy War. Kagaho tries to sleep a little longer to the sound of his division reporting over the Spectre Radio. Bennu has other ideas.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	frequency 101.1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely worldbuilding, establishing the radio which is not in AA itself. I want to write more slice of life. Kagaho’s radio is entirely >>, everyone else is >. FM101.1, in my area, is actually a classic rock station. :p

_> Duchess-by-blood to Sky Team, Duchess-by-blood to Sky Team. Sector 7-point-41’s all quiet tonight, nothing but the usual screaming._

He leaned back against the trunk of the tree, wings around him like a shawl and hands behind his head, watching the stars turn outside the veil of leaves that made his canopy. There was static in the air tonight, Bennu’s connection not well from the ground to the depths of the Meikai. The crystals were quiet, too, not much in the way of gossip as the sun went down. Not too many Garudas seemed awake at the moment, either. He pulled one hand free, pressing his forefinger and thumb to the side of his helmet.

_> >Violate, how many escapees? _

His voice was static over the crystal radio, his lip wordles as they moved. As lieutenant, it was his job to check reports, even as he was dozing the last few half-hours he had before he had to continue on his mission. Somehow, her usually coarse means of speaking had combined with the static into something soothing, as the voices of his subordinates almost always did, at least when they weren’t screeching for backup.

_> Only one since shift change._

_> >Copy that, Duchess. Over._

Bennu’s connection flared in strength but told him nothing more than quiet static, a connection over light transmission and soundwaves that he didn’t quite understand but knew to be an old technology. Civilizations rose and fell and yet humans still came down into the Underworld, living and dead, and brought their inventions with them. They were meticulous with their records, and nothing was lost unless it was destroyed and they couldn’t ask the dead for a backup copy. It was more the Griffon Division’s specialty, keeping the records, and his job was more on the surface, but it still seemed a little new.

New enough, and yet familiar enough, to be comforting. He tapped the side of his helmet again twice, flickering through slightly different tones in static until he heard voices, the static louder than the report. He shook his head slightly, and the static faded a little.

_>.... Se-sea… Seeing fish down there, they look quiet but they’ll know I’m here soon enough. What’s your expected trajectory?_

_> Intercept at T-minus-three, breaking surface-bound T-minus-two. Stand ground, I’m getting to you_.

He recognized the voices easily, Golem Rock and Mandrake Fyodor, neither of whom were well-suited to the Marina front but doing a damn good job considering they didn’t have backup from the Griffons. If his memory had it right, their current mission was to disable the Marinas’ current route to Sanctuary and scout out any alternatives they might have, and disable those too. 

_> I have visual on the captain. Intercept’ll be delayed, hold your own. _

_> Split-back maneuver, I can’t hold them._

Kagaho sat up, listening through the static, shaking his head hard enough to crack his neck twice, hoping for a better signal. “Bennu, what’s their coordinates?” His surplice answered in the quiet shuffle of an almost-voice that they usually did, and he found the answer at his lips, tied nicely with a ribbon of dismissiveness and ‘let them handle it’. 

_> Intercept at T-minus-shit-fuck-now-I-guess. Contact on the captain, heads up!_

Rock’s voice was tinged with more panic than static, and the radio went silent except for Fyodor’s string of muffled Russian curses and the static-crackle of three back-to-back techniques. 

_> This is Knight-in-Lyrics to Sky Team, Knight-in-Lyrics to Sky Team requesting backup. Zero to coordinates requesting backup, we got Hurricane Captain and three subs, little outnumbered over here--_

Fyodor’s voice cut out abruptly. Kagaho swore, hands slamming onto the tree branch before he quite suddenly found himself incapable of moving. He felt a twinge of annoyance in the back of his mind, Bennu’s silent caution to leave the matter to another Celestial.

_> Incoming T-minus-eight, hold them steady! _

The voice belonged to Deadly Beetle Stand, voice sharp and coarse and yet all too clear, his own location not far from Kagaho’s, but evidently travelling much faster.

_> Whaddaya expect me to do, monologue at them?_ Fyodor snipped back, followed by the harsh, low static of Mandrake powering a technique. 

_> >For Hades’ sake, tell them you’ll drown them in the grave of their human souls with your next technique or something equally stupid like that. Hold together._

He’d answered mostly because Bennu wasn’t letting him move, though his wing-tips were twitching into a frenzy. Fyodor and Rock’s coordinates were a good sixteen degrees out, it would take at least an hour to reach them even if he took the Shadowpath out to them. Bennu was right, in this case- he’d never make it in time.

_> T-minus-one, fan out!_

He found himself released from Bennu’s hold and he was answered with a high-pitched wailing. A circular ringing that remained as he pulled his helmet off. The back buckle acquiesced to him as he ripped it off, eyes shut tight from the sudden pain and holding it at arm’s length. He should’ve known better than to zero in on the frequency when Stand had a Celestial Star on each shoulder and let loose a Stand By Me. 

The ringing faded slowly, and he found himself a little wobbly on the tree branch, Bennu twinging both a mixture of pain and smug I-told-you-so. He dropped his arm, resting his elbow on his knee, momentarily incapable of even muttering a few Japanese curses under his breath. The three weren’t far off the coast of the Faroe Islands, and he was stuck inland in Latvia. 

“I’m not getting any more sleep now,” he muttered, when the ringing finally stopped. He put his helmet back on, slipping the worn, leather-padded chain through the buckle at the back of his neck and securing it. The static was strong and made his ears start ringing again, but less so than they just were.

Fyodor was whooping, Mandrake’s static a different beat than before. Rock wasn’t saying anything over the frequency, but the silence and lack of static indicated he’d switched off or was speaking audibly. 

_> >Good work. Stand, perfect on the rescue. I’ll let the River-Prince know. Over._

He tapped the side of his helmet twice, shuffling into a direct-line channel, indicated by a faster, twitchier buzzing as he stood up and fanned out his wings, stretching.

_> >Emberknight to River-Prince, Emberknight to River-Prince reporting in._

_> What’s up, Kagaho?_ Aiacos’ voice was clear and calm, like he was actually awake at this time at night - unusual, considering he recalled the Judge mostly had paperwork to do today and he usually preferred to sleep longer rather than wage war with a quill and not his Cosmos. 

_> >Reporting in for Knight-of-Lyrics, Vicar-to-Harmony, and Duke-who-stills. _

_> Something wrong?_

_> >Negative. Knight-of-Lyrics called for backup, Vicar-to-Harmony stepped in for an excellent rescue. Blew my eardrums, though._

_> Copy that. Any injuries?_

_> >No, they’re set to move forward._

_> Ten-four, fine by me. Are you heading out?_

_> >Affirmative, I’m not going to get any more sleep by the looks of things. I have Cosmos on my target, intercept probably T-minus an hour or so. I could overtake him on the road, but I’d rather divert his focus._

He closed his wings and stepped off the tree branch where he’d been resting, two feet off the ground when he spread them again, catching air and soaring into the sky, a hundred feet up and gaining height.

_> Don’t get yourself killed. I’d hate to have to train a new lieutenant because the Justice Scales stuck a sword through you._

_> >I’d hate to die. _

_> You should ask him out for dinner. He won’t know how to deal with it but he’ll say yes. Saints panic and fall back on their manners._

_> >I’m not going to ask how you know that. In other news, however, all seems quiet in sector seven, according to Violate, so we’re fresh out of Celestials and it’s business as usual. Give the King-Regent a cookie for me?_

_> I’d love to, but I have no idea where you put all your baking, because you keep hiding it from me_.

He laughed a little off-frequency, now four hundred feet in the air and climbing. There were a lot of things he liked about being a Spectre, but the simple joy of the chill in the summer evening’s breeze and the ability to fly wherever he pleased never failed to brighten his often nightmarishly-busy days a little. He cleared his throat, advancing toward low cloud level. If he extended his cosmos just right, he would be able to solidify them just enough to land and not fall through.

_> >Ask Sui, he’ll know where I hid all my baking from your stomach. I should be back either by sundown tomorrow or a few days, tell him not to miss me too much and if he does he has my full permission to bitch to you about it._

_> You don’t get to sic your brother on me, Kagaho. _Aiacos’ voice was reproachful and teasing, both reminding him of his rank and of his status as Aiacos’ closest friend. He’d woken up in the Judge’s office with his ribs playing the role of pillow more times than he could count. Spectres were a lot of things, dangerous and violent and murder-happy, but that didn’t make them any less wanting of sleeping directly on top of people they cared about to ensure the relative safety of everyone involved. Some were defense mechanisms against enemies on a mission. Others were just excuses for comfort dressed up in the language of brutality.

_> >Then quit giving me the missions I don’t want to do,_ he snipped in return, spying a particularly low cloud and dropping onto it, reclining out with wings only half-spread for balance. It was fluffy, and bone-chilling, and Bennu was warm enough to keep him from really noticing. The perks of having been chosen by the only firebird in the armoury.

_> Yeah, well, you’re the best suited for them and you don’t fuck them up. I’m going to eat all your cookies._

_> >Love you too, asshole. I put arsenic in half of them and only Sui can tell the difference. Over._

There wasn’t anything quite like getting the last word on Aiacos, and he tapped his helmet to disconnect from the frequency, ensuring silence unless anyone zeroed into his radio. And sure enough, there on the horizon, was a single horse and rider, the Cosmos in the network inching closer into a flurry of generic ley lines and sudden tangles. He’d been following that Cosmos, staying a half-day’s flight ahead of it, for five days now. He’d been lucky to find out what the Gold Saint’s mission was, and been able to tail him from in front. He’d made it to Riga before the Libra Saint had, but what was it there that he was looking for, Kagaho didn’t know. 

“Got you now,” he muttered, his face still neutral even though a deep frown was tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Go on. Lead me right to it, now…” He felt a little stupid talking at a Saint almost a thousand feet below him like he was little more than an insect, but he had visual on him and already had most of a plan. He was faster in just about every way. The Libra had strength, but it meant nothing if he tired himself out trying to hit him and playing defense against hapless civilians.

Dohko’s horse slowed from a gallop to a canter, and then to a trot, and then stopped dead about three hundred feet out of town. And then, quite suddenly, he started waving in Kagaho’s direction. Or at least, he was pretty sure he was - he wasn’t much more than a slightly large dot, but he could see his arm waving.

“Kagaho! I see you up there!” he called, voice distant but clear enough. He sighed, deeply, letting it run from his chest down his spine and through to his wing-tips. It was difficult to get the surprise on him if the Libra greeted him. 

He spread one wing, and turned, and descended, the air allowing him to make a tightly-bound spiral towards the ground. The Libra would be able to see him, and easily so, as he widened the radius of his descent. And then he swept behind a tree, breaking the Saint’s line of sight, and he was gone.

His hand met a doorframe and he swung through it, the doors already opened in the tavern, and he walked easily inside, uncaring of the sudden silence of the room as the civilians stared in mute fascinated horror at his Surplice. He strode over to the bar, leaning over the counter, dropping a fair few golden drachmas - the currency type didn’t really matter, it was gold and that was enough - on the wood, eyeing the bartender with fire in his gaze, threatening total ruin if his words weren’t obeyed.

“I’m meeting a _friend_ for a late dinner,” he said, softening his usually-coarse voice to something almost silky into Estonian words that were only vaguely close to the local Latvian, his accent Greek layered over his native Japanese and hopefully intelligible, said with as much confidence as he could place into it. “Two house specials, if you please.” He didn’t care what the house special even was. Almost every tavern in every city had one, and he smiled his favourite deranged-Spectre smile, showing teeth just a little too sharp, a little too clean.

One of the patrons seated a few stools away looked between him and the bartender, muttering something rapid in the local Latvian. He only caught something that sounded like the word ‘house’, and the bartender started nodding, “Yes sir, yes sir,” and it was mostly understandable.

The Cosmos in the background, behind him, flickered, and was suddenly much stronger. He turned, slowly, drawing his wing back out of the way, and there was Dohko, Cloth over his coat, looking furious.

“Kagaho,” he snarled, his face a scowl.

“Dohko, Dohko,” Kagaho drawled in return, returning to a more familiar Greek, keeping the smoothness in his tone. He didn’t have to actually have a plan past this, so long as he was confident and didn’t let it show that he was entirely making this up on the spot, he would have the upper hand. “You’re just in time. Care to join me for dinner?”

Dohko’s expression turned from anger to confusion to panic in less than five seconds, and he blurted out an “Okay sure,” before he’d had any time to think about it.

Kagaho’s neutral expression turned to the slightest of smirks, just enough to be visible, not enough for the Libra Saint to reliably tell it between a smirk or a smile. “How wonderful,” he said, wondering how funny Aiacos was going to find it.

_> >Emberknight reporting in to Sky Team, I repeat, Emberknight reporting in to Sky Team. I have interaction on the Justice Scales. River-Prince was correct as always, and I am going to do something stupid and yet hilarious tonight. Don’t die while I’m distracted, folks. Over._

He heard Aiacos laugh over the main Garuda frequency, followed by a few noises of questioning from his fellow Spectres. He only wished that this was the stupidest advice he’d ever actually listened to from Aiacos, but at least if he maneuvered right, it would end in a fair bit of bloodshed, and completely ruining the Libra Saint’s mission. He beckoned him forward with one hand, sweeping over to an empty table, and Dohko, completely bemused, followed him.


End file.
